


Birthday Shenanigans

by eleanor_lavish



Category: All-American Rejects, Bandom
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-19
Updated: 2007-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyson has a birthday.  Co-written by tobyzantium,</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

> This is from chatfic that Toby and I started on Tyson Ritter's birthday last month. It's pure porny fluff, with a side of handcuffs. Again, as with everything decent I write, over half the credit goes to Toby for being awesome. And also to schuyler for the beta, since, you know. Real fic from chatfic = interesting tense choices.

On Tyson’s birthday, he wakes up to sex from Nick Wheeler, breakfast from Sonic, more sex and then a short nap. It’s a pretty fucking nice day. What he does not get is a phone call from the boys in Oklahoma, wishing him a happy birthday.

[What Tyson also does not know is that the reason is that they are at thirty thousand feet, currently descending into the closest airport. Chris sends a present ahead, with a note addressed to Nick. "Keep him busy" the note says, and Nick laughs.

It’s handcuffs.]

Three hours later, Nick's got Tyson flat on his back, arms spread above him, and it's not so much funny as insanely hot. Tyson is naked and panting and Nick is grinning and the doorbell rings and Nick _leaves him there_ , running downstairs in nothing but jeans pulled hastily on. This is very, very uncool.

Tyson tilts his head back, using that voice of his to shout obscenities. "If that's the mailman, Wheeler, he can suck your cock - _you are never getting laid again!_ " He can hear Nick laughing and then shushing and Tyson strains to hear. There are multiple footfalls on the steps upstairs.

Chris sticks his head inside the bedroom door. "If you're done with Nick, then, can I have him?"

Tyson tries to sit up so fast that he nearly pulls the bed away from the wall. "Mother FUCKER!" he shouts, beaming. "You fucking sneaky ass bastard, Gaylor!"

"You couldn't gag him?" Mike asks from over Nick's shoulder, sliding a hand around his bare waist and Tyson laughs.

"Y'all fucking suck," he says, pulling on his restraints again. He tilts his hips up, erection pressed against his stomach muscles. "Someone get over here and give the birthday boy some love!"

"I don't know," Chris shakes his head and steps into Nick's chest with a smile. "Looks like you could use a time out."

Chris kisses Nick dirty, deep enough that Nick moans and Tyson makes a shocked noise. "What the FUCK?" he whines. Chris tangles his hand in Nick's hair - it's gotten longer since they took time off from touring and performing. He holds the back of Nick's head, keeping him in the kiss, which drags out into an even filthier exchange of tongues and teeth. "Kennerty!" Tyson looks to him. "Come on, man!"

Mike tucks his chin over Nick's shoulder. "Dunno, I have a pretty good seat over here," he says, locking eyes with Tyson and licking a wide swath up Nick's neck.

"You are all going to burn in hell," Tyson says seriously, and Nick breaks the kiss, giggling.

"Dude," he turns to look to Tyson, grinning, "there's no way you're allowed to bitch after this morning."

Chris nips Nick's ear. "What did we miss, hm?" he says.

Tyson shakes his head. "That was birthday-morning sex! That is so not sufficient!"

"He came three times before noon," Nick murmurs against Chris's lips and Mike raises his eyebrows.

"Nice," he says to Ty, and Chris cuts in, "Savor it while you're 23, dude – it's all downhill from here." Mike unbuttons Nick's jeans and slips his hand inside and Tyson rattles the bed again. "God, you're pushy," Chris notes fondly as Nick moans and leans back into Mike's chest.

"Yeah, yeah," Tyson says, "tell me something we don't all know - like why my boyfriend is getting fucking jacked off on my birthday, when he was supposed to be fucking me?"

Nick opens his mouth to reply, but Mike does something with his hand and all that comes out is a gasp. "Maybe because I'm going to fuck you," Chris says.

Tyson opens mouth to say... something sarcastic maybe, but Chris is stalking slowly toward the bed, pulling his yellow t-shirt over his head and dropping it on the floor. "Yeah," is all Tyson can manage as Chris sits on the bed and kicks off his shoes.

Nick's slouched down, leaning against Mike's chest, his legs spread wide enough that Mike has a good hold on his cock. "He's been talking about it for days," Mike offers, from where he's kissing Nick's neck. (Mike has a thing for necks - they all know about it and indulge him.)

Nick reaches up and runs his fingers through Mike's hair as he bites down lightly at the sensitive skin under his ear. "Almost spilled the beans this morning when Ty was whining that you never called," he manages, panting a little as Mike squeezes lightly.

"You really thought we'd blow off your birthday?" Chris asks, eyes a little hurt, and Tyson hooks a leg over his lap and tries to pull him closer.

"Just, you didn't _call_ ," he whines and Chris pinches the inside of his thigh.

"Idiot," Chris says, shaking his head. He reaches out, hooking his hand around Tyson's cock roughly.

"Shit!" Tyson's hips shoot up, his muscles tense.

Chris laughs, jerking him with a loose hand. "I always forget how easy he is," he says, glancing over his shoulder at Nick and Mike. "You guys wanna get in here?" When he lets go, pulling at the zipper of his pants, Tyson groans.

Mike pulls his hand free with a last stroke (Nick was just starting to do that panting/whimpering thing) and shoves Nick's jeans to his knees until Nick can step out of them. Nick turns and kisses Mike once, fast, before pulling his shirt off. "Where's the mountain man look?" he asks, running a hand over Mike's newly trim beard.

Mike shrugs. "Ty isn't a fan." Nick beams, and Mike can't stop himself from kissing him again.

On the bed, Tyson's watching, eyes wide, as Chris slowly tugs off his jeans. "Come on, Gaylor," he says faintly. "don't be a tease."

Chris just smiles, sliding down his boxers. "You fucking love it."

By the time Mike and Nick's knees hit the bed, clothes scattered over the bedroom floor, Chris is kneeling between Tyson's thighs. He falls forward so he's propped up on either side of Tyson's head, still not touching him. "Hey, Ritter. Happy birthday, man," he grins and leans in for a kiss. Tyson surges up, shoulders straining, and Chris pulls back a fraction, laughing.

"Eager, aren't you?" Mike says from Tyson's left side.

Tyson groans as Mike's hand barely skates over his bare chest. "You have no fucking clue," he pants, his eyes still fixed on Chris' green smiling ones. He feels a cool hand on his hip, rubbing in a distinct pattern - Nick.

"Happy birthday," Nick says, right as Chris kisses him.

Chris tries to keep the teasing up, but Tyson wraps a leg around his waist and pulls him closer -- Chris's cock slides against Tyson's pubic bone and he groans. "Fuck, Ty," he says as he pulls back, Tyson nipping at his lower lip.

"That's the general idea, yeah," Tyson grins up at him, arching up.

"God, you're slutty," Mike says fondly and Tyson looks at him.

"Get up here so I can suck your cock, Kennerty," he says, and Nick grins when he sees Mike's eyes flash.

Mike looks back to Nick, kissing him once. "What do you think?" he says.

Nick nuzzles him. "I think it's a good way to stop him from talking." Mike grins, shifting on the bed.

Chris sits back on his heels and Nick slides in behind him, wrapping his arms around Chris's waist and nuzzling his neck. "Lube?" Chris asks and Nick leans over to get it from the nightstand.

Mike kneels next to Tyson's head. He's already hard, and Tyson turns his head. Mike slides his cock along his bottom lip as Chris presses one slick finger against his ass. "Fuckin' awesome," Tyson moans and licks the slit of Mike's cock.

Chris laughs. "Seriously," he says, holding onto Tyson's hip as he slides one finger inside, fast and deep enough that Tyson's lips open sloppily against Mike's cock. "You're like the easiest lay ever, Ty," but his eyes are fond, his fingers working carefully.

"That's what you said when I turned, mm, when I turned twenty-one," Tyson murmurs, turning his head. Without hands, he can't catch Mike's cock, and ends up giving sloppy kisses and nuzzles.

"Ah, the joys of corrupting a minor," Mike says, guiding his cock into Tyson's mouth and sighing when Tyson sucks enthusiastically.

"Mmmnph," Tyson says and Mike whacks him lightly in the forehead.

"Shush," he jokes and Chris leans forward to kiss Tyson's stomach as he slides a second finger in, crooking them just a fraction to make Tyson buck. Nick grins and runs a hand over Chris's ass, his own fingers still a little slick from this afternoon (round four). He presses into the cleft of Chris's ass and Chris sits back, shaking his head.

"Gotta concentrate here, Wheeler," he says, but he rocks back a fraction and shudders when Nick massages his finger over his entrance.

Nick peeks at Tyson over Chris' broad shoulders, nuzzling at his muscles. Tyson's eyes are shut, his arms taut as he sucks Mike's cock, taking him deep. Nick hears a choked moan, sees his eyelashes flutter. Chris chuckles. "I think he's pretty ready," he says.

"Need some help?" Nick wraps his fingers around the base of Chris' cock and guides him to Tyson's ass.

Chris loves that he can do this, that they are exclusive enough that he can feel Tyson stretch over bare skin as Nick presses him forward slowly. Tyson lifts one long leg to Chris's shoulder and the angle is perfect and they both moan. Mike hisses and Tyson starts sucking again, sloppy and unfocused as Chris slides out and back in again, slow and deep.

Sometimes when Chris fucks Tyson, he goes fast, faster than Nick likes it, fast enough that Tyson's begging for more, gasping against the sheets and coming just from the pounding thrusts. Today, though, Tyson's already stretched out, a morning's worth of bite marks and red patches all over his chest and neck, and Chris takes his time. He rocks in deeper, grinning when the rhythm of his hips is matched by the metallic clank of the handcuffs.

"Shit," Mike whispers, hair sweat-plastered to his face, "Chris, dude - we need to come visit more often."

"Amen," Nick says from behind, curling his fingers up into Chris.

Chris closes his eyes and concentrates on breathing until he's relaxed around Nick's fingers, Tyson whimpering beneath him. "Fuck, _fuck_ ," Chris says brokenly when Nick strokes against his prostate. Tyson can feel Chris's cock jump inside him.

"Do that again," Ty gasps, and Mike and Nick both grin. Mike jerks himself while Tyson and Chris and Nick find a rhythm. "God, I wish I had my camera," he says to no one in particular.

Chris isn't going to last much longer - he can feel the tingling in his balls, the way he's having to take longer, shakier breaths. What's more, he's pretty sure Nick and Tyson can tell, too. He focuses on fucking Tyson harder, on matching the rhythm of his hips with Nick's fingers.

"Don't," Chris mumbles, through gritted teeth, "don't you dare fucking come, Kennerty. Not like that." When he meets Mike's eyes, they're dark and heavy and that's it, that's all Chris needs.

Tyson is close, but this is better, getting to watch Chris shudder and feeling him come inside him, warm and wet and so fucking hot. "God _damn_ it," Chris grits out, his head falling back to Nick's shoulder. Nick's fingers are still inside him, stroking gently, and Nick catches Mike's eye.

"He's all yours," Nick smiles as he slips his fingers free and kisses Chris's neck. Tyson wants to watch as Mike tugs a now boneless Chris to the side of the bed, but Nick is straddling his waist. "Gonna ride you," Nick rumbles, low.

Mike lays Chris out next to them on his stomach and winks at Nick. "God, you're evil geniuses," Tyson says, awed.

Chris whimpers.

Nick leans over, kissing Tyson, deep and slow. If it weren't for the way their erections brush, they might have kept that up for a long while, just kissing. As it is, Tyson bites Nick's bottom lip, wriggling his hips a little, and Nick pulls back. Nick reaches for the lube, uncapping and drizzling some onto his hand, Tyson's cock. He meets Mike's eye and passes it over.

Tyson can barely breath as Nick slicks up his cock, raising up on his knees and locking eyes with Tyson. "Look at me," Nick says, and it's an order in that calm Nick way. Tyson wants this so badly he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming as Nick lowers himself in agonizingly slow increments. Chris mumbles something next to him, a deep breath interrupted by a stuttered one, and Tyson knows Mike is pressing in just as slow, like he and Nick _planned_ this.

"Nicky," Tyson whispers, desperate to touch the fall of hair that slips past Nick's ear, the muscles of his stomach that ripple as he rocks up and down on Tyson's cock. Nick keeps his eyes locked with Tyson's, moving one hand to brace himself on Tyson's mattress.

"Shit," Chris mumbles, turning his head to look at Tyson, "I think we just - mm, fuck yeah, Kennerty - I think we just got served."

"Not complainin', dude," Tyson says breathlessly.

His shoulders ache from where he keeps trying unconsciously to pull his hands down and place them on Nick's slim hips, make him move faster, harder. The friction is amazing, but not quite there, and Nick knows what he's doing to Ty, and Ty knows he knows. "Fucker," Tyson grits out when Nick swivels his hips a little and Nick just grins.

"You _love_ it," he answers. At his side, Chris casts out a seeking hand and squeezes Tyson's side. Mike's not being nearly as gentle.

Tyson turns his head to the side, watching the two of them. He hasn't been fucked by Mike in a while, and he decides that's his next birthday gift. Maybe after dinner -- he licks his lips as Chris' fingers dig into his hip. "Doing good?" he asks Chris.

Chris' eyes slit open. "Y-yeah," he mumbles, just as Mike pushes in hard. Tyson feels a hand on his jaw -- Nick, turning him to look back.

" _Watch_ ," he says again, and Tyson keeps his eyes on Nick's face as he sits back, hips still rocking slow and steady. Nick smiles and wraps a hand around his cock, throwing his head back at the contact, and Tyson wants these cuffs off _now_ so he can lean up and bite the long line of Nick's throat. Instead he just growls a little and Mike laughs, surprised.

"Yeah, that's it," Mike murmurs and Chris keeps his eyes open to watch as Nick starts jerking himself off.

Tyson licks his lips, pushing his hips up against Nick. "If you unlock me," he says, panting, "I could take care of that for you."

Nick clenches around Tyson, hand speeding up. "Nice try," he mumbles.

Tyson hasn't watched Nick jerk himself off like this in a while, not without giving in and lending a hand, and he groans when Nick starts panting, thighs trembling at Ty's hips. "Yeah, come on," Tyson says, and Nick takes a deep breath and squeezes his cock tight. "Goddamn it, Nickolas," Tyson grits out and Nick squeezes around him too, grinning as he starts all over.

"Don't want it over too fast, right?" he pants and Tyson plants his heel on the mattress and arches up enough that Nick almost tips over.

Meanwhile, Mike's pressed forward, pulling Chris’s hips closer with each thrust. They're fucking harder and faster than Tyson and Nick, Mike's hand on Chris' shoulder, Chris' palm splayed over Tyson’s chest. The slap of skin against skin, coupled with Nick's maddening slowness, is killing Tyson.

Nick takes less time to get to the edge this time, and Tyson's shoulders burn from trying to wrench his hands free. He wants to flip Nick over, fuck him hard enough to rattle the lamp across the room, but Nick is barely moving now, eyes half closed as he strokes himself faster. Chris groans low next to him and Tyson wants to reach out and take his hand, make them all connected in this. Maybe they've all gotten a little too good at mind reading, because Chris turns his head into Tyson's side, nose pressing into his rib so he can feel his breathing.

"Nick," Tyson grits out. "Nick, fuck," because he can feel the bed rocking with Mike's thrusts as they get more ragged, and he can hear the hoarse, long moan that he knows, that means Mike's just come and it's his fucking birthday, _goddamnit_.  
.  
Mike is never boneless, not like Chris and Tyson are, and he's smiling at Tyson from his knees as he pulls out slowly. Nick is close, and Tyson is _so close_ , and when Nick throws his head back, shoulders hunching, Tyson thinks _"Finally"_ as Nick clenches around him.

Nick's come streaks his stomach, his chest and Tyson can barely breathe. It's the hottest thing he's seen in... ever, possibly. He's still watching Nick's face, watching him blink his eyes open, hazy, when he feels Mike's hand skating over his inner thigh, up to his balls. Chris leans in and licks a drop of come from Tyson's chest, right under his nipple, and when Tyson closes his eyes he can't tell any of them apart anymore; it’s all skin on skin and he whimpers.

Tyson blinks his eyes open to see Chris, a halo of blond hair as his teeth close around Tyson's nipple, and when Nick squeezes around his cock viciously he arches off the bed with a shout. "Fucker," he pants and Nick laughs breathlessly and starts up a slow, easy rhythm, every stroke causing fireworks behind Tyson's eyelids, but never _enough_. "Please, fuck, Nicky," he finally sobs and Chris leans up to kiss his jaw.

"Come on -- it's his birthday," Mike says matter-of-factly, stretching out along Tyson’s other side.

"Thank you," Tyson exhales -- he meant it to sound huffy, but it comes out as something closer to genuine gratitude.

Mike turns, smiling at him. "Anytime," he mumbles, and his lips find Tyson's. And that's enough; that's just right - Nick, clenching around him, Chris' roving hands and rasping teeth, and Mike, licking into Tyson's mouth with a clever flick of his tongue and all Tyson's sockets blow. He sees a shattering of sparks against the dark inside of his eyelids when he comes.

Tyson's barely conscious when he hears a key jingle near his ear, his hands suddenly free. He winces as he pulls his arms down a little and Nick makes a soft tsking sound and lies down next to him, squished between Chris and Tyson, and rubs his shoulder. "Sorry, baby," he says softly.

"What?," Ty drawls, his eyes still mostly closed. "Hmm, good, that's."

Mike laughs lightly and Tyson can feel the cool damp of a washcloth as he cleans up after them. He pulls on Mike's arm until he's back in bed, tight against Ty's other side. "Right, yes, birthdays," Ty mumbles and he can feel Nick's silent giggles against his ribcage.

Mike guides Tyson's right hand over, rubbing the muscles and tendons that flare out from the base of Tyson's palm. Tyson purrs, and Nick kisses his neck. "Such a little pampered bitch," he chuckles.

Tyson makes an annoyed noise and opens his eyes. "You made me _wait forever_ ," he whines and Mike keeps massaging his hand, his wrist. Nick's fingers are warm on his shoulders.

"I know, we suck," Nick concedes and Tyson peeks over him to see Chris, already nearly asleep against Nick's back.

"I still expect presents," he says.

Chris' eyes flutter open to half-mast, his lips curling into a cat-like smile. "We got you a fruitcake," he mumbles. Mike gives a sleepy giggle from Tyson's other side.

"Yeah, the same one Dirty sent us last Christmas."

"I hate you both," Tyson mutters, but he can't stop grinning so he's pretty sure they don't believe him.

"You want real cake instead?" Nick's voice buzzes against his skin and Tyson nods, but doesn't move. "I'm not serving you in bed, asshole," he adds and Tyson sighs.

"Fine, nap now, cake later." Mike smiles and wraps his arm around Ty's waist. Tyson stretches his leg, snagging an edge of the sheet between his first two toes. He drags it up so it covers their legs, and Nick gives a pleased murmur. "I'm twenty three," Tyson murmurs, addressing no one in particular.

Nick squeezes him gently and Mike plants a kiss on his shoulder. Chris's hand lands with a thwap on his stomach as he turns and spoons behind Nick. "Happy birthday, doucheface," Chris mumbles as he drifts off, and Tyson thinks this is the best birthday ever.  



End file.
